Cruel Angel
by Tenshi no Nozomi
Summary: HPSM cross :: Tom RiddlexUsagi :: It's been said that you should never judge a book by it's cover, but in Usagi's case, it might have been for the best if she'd broken that rule. :: UPDATED AS OF 9.11.05 ch2 up!
1. The Beginning

Cruel Angel  
_The Beginning_  
  
**Pairing:** Tom Riddle/Usagi  
  
Author Info:  
**Written by:** Tenshi no Nozomi  
**Contact at:**  
**Edited by: **Usa-chan and Pokahydee  
**Inspiration:** Cruel Angel's Thesis, Kimi no Mado Kara, (songs by Kikuko Inoue) and Fuuma from X/1999 (ubber-sexy evil bishie! glomp)  
  
**Warnings: **Dark-fic, twistedness, suicidal thoughts, betrayal (NOT senshi betrayal), possible character death. Also, spoilers for book two (Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets), even though anyone and everyone should have at least seen the second movie by now.  
  
**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimers apply. I own nothing, aside from my thoughts and rather... strange musings. I don't think anyone wants to buy those, though.  
  
**Thanks to:** My pre-readers thus far, Usa-chan and Poka-chan. I don't think anyone else has read this. If I'm wrong, guys, I apologize–I love you all.  
  
**Extra Info:** Please note that this is the FIRST of THREE parts. Three. No more, no less, if it means the last chapter has to be twenty pages long. And no sequels! I can't take any more projects or inspiration. At this rate I'll be writing fanfics in hell.  
  
**Author's Notes:**  
Erm. I think some explanation is probably in order. How, though can I explain myself? This fic was inspired by several different sources, some of which I haven't listed because I couldn't explain them even if I tried. I had thought of this idea a while ago, but I don't think I would have written it if not for seeing X/1999's Fuuma in action... or Kamui; whichever name he's going by at the time. ;; Such a sadist.  
  
Anyhow. If you know you can't enjoy this pairing for any reason, I highly recommend turning back now. If you flame me, I'm liable to delete the post–and I mean **true** flaming, people. Don't insult my integrity as a person simply because you didn't like the story/pairing or whatever.  
  
Also. I'm going to do my very, very, VERY best to keep everyone in character. Which could be very difficult. I don't think I'd be far off to say that Usagi and Tom/Voldemort are at opposite ends of the spectrum. Still, I think it can be done, with enough patience. Also, I don't think there are too many out there, so perhaps it will be inspirational? lol.  
  
If you're still here, I invite you to sit down. I hope to delight you, and don't think this fic will be a waste of your time, if I may be so bold.  
  


  
  
Usagi climbed out of the telephone booth, face stained red in the wake of her tears. She didn't bother wiping her tears away. The driving rain that was pouring down in silver sheets did it for her. Within moments she was soaked. She didn't care, though, not in the least. She felt completely empty inside after having cried till her sobs became hiccups and breathless gasping gags.  
  
If she'd had any more tears left to cry, Usagi might have started up again. She had died for Mamoru how many times? How many times had she risked life, limb, and happiness to get him back, to help him, to save him? She loved him, but apparently none of that mattered.  
  
Mamoru didn't remember her. It was that simple. Or rather, he remembered the part of her that was neither extraordinary or worth remembering. It horrified her, that he knew so little. He had forgotten the precious moments they'd shared, in this life and their last. He'd forgotten the love that they shared, and now...  
  
Now that girl Anne sought to take the place that ought to have been hers. It should have been, right? She'd died to save him; her love was that strong. She wasn't thinking rationally; she understood that. But it was so hard to be reasonable when her heart hurt so badly. What would she do if Mamoru never came back to her?  
  
Usagi sloshed through the rain water, only barely caring for the fact that the water was ice cold and that it had seeped into her socks and shoes. She kicked at a water puddle glumly, without any real desire to do so. Everything felt numb, but she should have been grateful for it, for the chilling, numbing cold that had overtaken her. Feeling just hurt too much.  
  
A car whizzed by on the road, churning up dirty rainwater from the street. It hit Usagi like a wave, and she paused, watching the car speed away. Slowly, numbness gave way to feeling again, and Usagi began to shiver, breaking into goose bumps. Something interesting caught her eyes, though.  
  
It was a book in the water, churned up by the car that had rushed by. It bumped against the curb once, twice, three times, floating silently in the murky water. It was a dark shadow on top of dark water, bound in dark, now soaked leather, and strangely punctured looking.  
  
Usagi's skin began to itch and tingle. It reminded her of the feeling she always got when she thought of going swimming in the Spring–a dryness, a nostalgia, an incredible yearning. Usagi knelt, shivering, and picked the drenching tome out of the water.  
  
It's pages seemed half dissolved in the water, and the leather was bound to have been ruined. It looked as though it had seen its fair amount of damage even before being left in the rain. It looked like it had been stabbed, perhaps.  
  
The itching, the compulsive **need**, passed after Usagi'd picked up the book. Now, though, she felt more than a little foolish. What was she doing out in the rain? Yes, she was upset about Mamoru's refusal to even look at her. And picking up a book out of the dirty water... by now it was most likely unsalvageable, just junk. What had she been thinking?  
  
Still, she couldn't get herself to put it back down. I'll just bring it home and see if it won't dry out, Usagi told herself, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in the gut of her stomach and the warning bells that seemed to be going off in her head. And if it's ruined, I'll just throw it away. Her reassurance, though, was a false one.  
  


  
  
Usagi finished blow drying and brushing her hair out. She was wrapped up in her bath robe, warm and dry. Of course, it was also three days since she'd let herself soak in the rain like that. Consequently, she'd been sick for two of those days, out with a terrible cold. Now, though, her strength had returned to her, and so had her determination.  
  
Mamoru might tell her no now, she reasoned with herself, but it wouldn't have been the first time he'd told her he didn't love her and sent her away. Perhaps it wouldn't be the last, either. But she loved him, and she was willing to wait until he realized that he loved her, too.  
  
Usagi crossed her room and picked up the book off of the window sill. While she'd been recovering from her experience in the rain, so had the book. Slowly, the pages had dried up, and the leather had as well. And although the "puncture wound" in the book's cover was still deep, it didn't seem as bad as it had before. Perhaps she'd been seeing things.  
  
Usagi flipped through the pages carefully, just in case some of them were still damp. They were a bit brittle, but for the most part, they'd dried nicely. Usagi frowned as some of the pages. Obviously words had been written there, but the ink had ran and smeared from the water, staining the pages deep brown and black. Now it was just an illegible mess. It was a shame, she thought, idly. She wasn't nosy, exactly, but she couldn't help but feel a little curious as to what had been written there.  
  
Usagi flipped casually and quickly through the rest of the book. The rest of the pages were blank. It must have been a diary or a journal, she finally surmised. Still, it was odd. Why would someone throw a perfectly nice diary away? They hadn't even written on half of the pages.  
  
Usagi shut the book, but carried it in her hands. It had a nice heft-not too heavy, but not so light that she'd forget she was carrying it. She fingered the beautiful dark leather gently. It was a nice journal. And since it had just been abandoned... well, finders keepers, right?  
  
Besides, she could use someone that she could confide in. Her life was fairly complicated, and although she loved her friends, she couldn't always tell them everything. It would be good to be able to get it out of her system, to tell it to "someone" without being judged. She couldn't even tell things to her cat without getting talked back to.  
  
Usagi looked around her, scanning her room for a pen. She located one on her dresser and picked it up. She tested it for ink, drawing a gentle but firm line across the back of her hand. She was pleased to see a rich, thick, black ink line run across her pale skin.  
  
Usagi flipped the book open again to the first blank page. She dated the top of the page carefully, trying to make her penmanship as neat as possible. She stopped, though, and put a long mark through the kanji. She'd been neglecting her English homework for a long time, and it wouldn't hurt her to practice using the English alphabet. She had a test coming up soon, anyhow.  
  
Usagi had gotten halfway down the page and was busily writing down her thoughts and feelings and the like when she noticed something very strange happening. Her words, the letters she'd written in were fading. Fading, or being sucked in, one after another. Usagi felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle in alarm. Something wasn't right. The pages were dry, and pages didn't "absorb" ink like that.  
  
Usagi watched, both amazed and horrified, as words began to slowly develop on the page, as though they were being written by some unseen hand. _W-h-o..._ Usagi let out a small, panicked yip. The book was communicating with her!?  
  
She hurled it away from her as though it were on fire or it had tried to eat her. Her heart pounded crazily in her chest. Usagi knew better than to think it was natural for a book to start "talking" back to her. She curled her legs up to her chest and stared at the book where it lay in a heap on the floor. Should she call Luna? Should she call Rei?  
  
How could she even begin to explain it, though? What if the book could choose when it "spoke," and it just made her look bad? Could books have personalities, she wondered? If books could communicate at will, then perhaps...  
  
Usagi got off her bed and walked over the book. Hesitantly she nudged the book over with her foot, ready to jump away and run for the window or door at a moment's notice. Usagi gripped at the Ginzuisho tightly, making a fist around the jewel. She could use all the courage she could get, even if the situation did seem a bit silly or ridiculous.  
  
_"Who are you,"_ it read simply. Or not so simply. The letters were rather ornate, as though they'd been written with a calligraphy pen. Usagi knelt down, curiosity and fascination overcoming fear. She picked up her pen and worked up her courage. Hastlily, she replied, _"Tsukino Usagi."_  
  
She watched the book soak the words up, and had another idea. If a book could ask questions, could it answer? She wrote again, a bit less hurriedly, _"Who are you?"_ She waited, breathe held, for a reply. Minutes passed before anything happened, and Usagi was just about to give up and hold it all to an overactive imagination when it finally replied.  
  
_"My name is Tom Riddle. Where am I, Usagi-san?"_ Usagi was surprised. Despite the fact that this person–or thing, it was a book, even if it did claim a boy's name– wrote in English alphabet, they seemed to know the right suffix. Most foreignors didn't use the suffixes, and were surprised to find out that people used them a good deal of the time.  
  
_"Tokyo, Japan. I found you at the side of a road,"_ she told it. Usagi couldn't help but be fascinated by this. _"What **are** you?"_  
  
_"That's what I would like to know about you,"_ Tom replied. Usagi might have been wrong, but she had a feeling if the boy had had a voice then it would have sounded a little bewildered. _"You can't be a muggle, or you'd never have been able to contact me. You must be a witch, then?"_  
  
Usagi frowned in confusion. _"A witch? What on Earth are you talking about? What's a muggle, anyhow?"_ Usagi sat back and watched the words disappear again like magic. She still couldn't get over that, it was just incredibly fascinating. Usagi realized that if what the book was suggesting was true, then it possessed some kind of magic... and thought that she did as well.  
  
_"Not a witch? What are you then?"_ Usagi felt suspicion rise. Why did this book need to know any of that? And why was she talking to it, anyhow? Usagi realized all at once that this could be very dangerous. If Rei found out that she'd been messing around something that could possibly have been possessed by a youma or an evil spirit, she'd never let Usagi off the hook.  
  
_"I"_– Usagi stopped, pausing. How should she answer this question? What could she say? I'm me? I'm a human? I'm a girl? I'm the reincarnation of a Lunarian Princess who will some day become Queen of Crystal Tokyo? She might not have been the brightest crayon in the box, but even she knew a good idea from a bad one. _"Never mind what I am,"_ she told it, evading the question clumsily.   
  
"Usagi," her mother called from downstairs. "Dinner's ready!" Usagi's stomach rumbled as though on queue. She called back that she'd be down in a minute, that she had to finish something really quick. She had to admit, she **did** want to finish this discussion with Tom. Or the book. Whatever.  
  
_"I have to go... Can I talk with you later?"_ What a ridiculous question. She wasn't on the phone with anyone. She was talking to a book. A book with a personality. A book with a brain hidden somewhere in between it's pages, cover, and binding.  
  
Usagi waited again. She tapped the pen against her cheek impatiently. What was taking so long? Finally "Tom" replied.  
  
_"Very well. Perhaps you'll be willing to tell me more about yourself later. I have a favor to ask, though."_ Usagi gulped nervously. A favor? What kind of a favor could a book possibly have to ask? She chewed on her lip gently and contemplated her reply.  
  
_"That depends on the favor." _Usagi knew it wasn't the most cunning response anyone could have made, but for someone who was generally as open as she, it was the best she could have offered. Ami and Rei would have been so proud of her for not rushing into things and trusting something or someone implicitly. Of course, that would probably be after they were done berating her for talking to the thing at all, so maybe they'd just be relieved.  
  
_"Don't tell anyone about me,"_ he requested. Usagi blinked, not understanding. She was about to reply when the book continued to "speak" to her. _"The last time I met a young girl, she told her family about me and they mistook me for a monster.They tried to destroy me."_  
  
Usagi's eyes widened, and she understood then. That would explain the strange stab on the cover. _"I'm sorry,"_ she told it, knowing how incredibly stupid that probably sounded. _"Don't worry, though. I won't tell anyone–I promise."_  
  
_"Thank you,"_ Tom replied. Usagi noticed in the back of her head that Tom was replying much more quickly now. It was as though he'd just needed to get warmed up again. Usagi's mother called for her again, sounding more than a little irritated her.  
  
"I'm coming," she called back. Hastily, she scrawled _"goodbye"_ into the book before shutting it and running downstairs for a later dinner. Still, even when she went to bed that night, the last thing she'd see before she closed her eyes would be that book, and it would be on her thoughts even after she'd drifted into her dreams.  
  


  
  
Almost a week. The book, known to her as "Tom" had been in her possession for an entire week. She'd only talked to him a few times, but each time she did, she found herself becoming even more absorbed by what he had to say. Yesterday evening she'd spent several hours writing back and forth with him. She'd gone to bed that night and woken up with a sore wrist.  
  
Still, she felt the desire to talk to him even now, at school. He was easy to talk to–even easier than her friends. He passed no judgements, he listened with sympathetic "ear," and he gave good advice. Sure, sometimes the words he said were a little weird, but that had to be the cultural difference. He hadn't asked her anymore disturbing questions.  
  
Granted, Tom hadn't really told her much about himself, either. Usagi got the feeling that "Tom" hadn't always been a book, or a part of one, but he hadn't said. And since he hadn't pried at her for information, she had decided to extend the same courtesy. In the back of her mind, though, the questions nagged.  
  
It had been another long day for Usagi. She'd woken up late, missed breakfast, gotten to school late, taken a test that she had probably failed, and served out detention for her tardy after the day was over and all the other students had gone home. Then, of course, had been the dreaded Senshi meeting.  
  
Not that Usagi regretted seeing her friends. She loved them dearly; they were the most precious things in the world to her, aside from her family and Mamoru. But Senshi meetings could become quite unpleasant for the laid back blonde, especially once Rei and Luna got into nagging at her.  
  
Usagi understood that she fulfilled her duties as leader poorly at best. The fact of the matter was that if she could have advocated the position to someone else, she would have done so a long time ago. That, however, was impossible. To make matters worse, Usagi was not cut out to be a leader.  
  
She had no desire to go fight, whatsoever. Usagi wasn't exactly a coward–if her friends truly needed her, she'd always be there–but she wasn't brave, either. Aside from that, violence wasn't really in her nature. Sure, she fought with her friends, but the idea of actually hurting someone, much less killing them, horrified her.  
  
It had been the usual nag-fest that it normally was. And although Usagi had brushed it off with the usual defenses (crocodile tears and denial) the comments still stung her. She knew they were dissatisfied with her, but what could she do? She could no more change her nature than a zebra could change its stripes.  
  
Usagi went inside the house and went up to her room without bothering to stop by the kitchen first, which was her usual schedule. A nap sounded like a stupendous idea after her long day, and Usagi was certain she could hear her bed calling her. She went into her room and undressed unceremoniously, pulling on a large sleeping shirt after wards and dropping right into her bed.  
  
Thirty minutes, passed, though, and Usagi found herself tossing and turning despite her exhaustion. Finally, wearing a deep scowl, Usagi got up. If sleep wouldn't come to her, then she'd have to preoccupy herself with something else.  
  
She considered the new Sailor V game she'd bought just last weekend. She wasn't very far in it; it was a lot harder than the last one had been, and she just hadn't felt the same kind of urge to play it like she normally did. Instead, she'd spent one day napping, another day being lazy and moping around due to being heartbroken, and three days had been spent talking with "Tom."   
  
Her eyes fell on the book again. She felt the temptation to speak with Tom again. She knew she really shouldn't. She should have taken the book to Rei-chan a long time ago, or at least sought out Luna's advice. However, the combination of being so mad at the two that she couldn't see straight and her promise kept her from it. If curiosity would not be her undoing, then surely pride would be.  
  
Usagi knelt down, picked up her pen, and began to write again.  
  


  
  
Tom had been puzzled by his continued existence. For a long time, there had been nothing but a sort of silence and strange nonexistence. It had been like he'd gone to sleep. It hadn't been until the girl had started writing in the diary that he'd finally begun to regain consciousness. Even now he could still feel the pull of the abyss at him.  
  
He'd thought for sure that his battle with Harry had been the very end. The feel of the serpent's fang in his cover–in his being, where his soul had still been stored–had been so very painful. He didn't think even Potter could have understood it, even though he himself had not been doing so very well. His body had been wounded, but not his mind, not his soul.  
  
He didn't know how he'd gotten out of the Chambers in tact. Dumbledore must have been becoming truly senile if he'd forgotten to destroy his diary. So perhaps Potter had thought he was truly defeated, and disposed of him. He'd probably never know. Maybe that was for the best, anyhow. Still, he wondered just how he'd managed to arrive in Tokyo Japan.  
  
He was an entire continent away. Surely he could not have merely "drifted." Maybe one of his followers had meant for this to happen, and it was an elaborate scheme to resurrect him. Perhaps Dumbledore had been foolish enough to think that simply dropping him away in some foreign country would be enough... Perhaps...  
  
_"Hello, Tom." _  
  
So. She was writing again.  
  
It had been harder to try to "persuade" this girl than it had been to persuade Ginny. Granted, the Weasley girl had been a lot more susceptible. She'd been younger, and more foolish, and more trusting. This one was foolish and trusting to respond to him in the first place, but apparently she had her reservations. She had, at least, not taken him at face value.  
  
_"Usagi-san. Did you have a nice day,"_ he asked, the spitting image of politeness. As though he cared.  
  
Although, in some ways, he was beginning to think that perhaps he did. The girl was very strange, an enigma that was becoming increasingly enticing. She had picked him up and unknowingly rescued him from the elements and probably eventual destruction. He had, however, been making a suspicious recovery ever since she had begun to speak with him. He had an idea that his recovering strength had little to do with the poison wearing off and a lot to do with her.  
  
She had been unable or unwilling to unveil to him who she was. She'd told him her name, and he knew some of the basics about her, but he didn't know the answers to the questions that bothered him the most. He didn't know how she had the ability to heal a wound that would have been fatal to any human. He didn't know whether or not she was a filthy mudblood or a pureblood. He didn't even know if she was who she truly claimed to be.  
  
He doubted that she would have lied intentionally to him. She had no reason to lie to him. She was a rather naive, simplistic child, who couldn't see beyond her problems, as petty as they were in the grand scheme of things. Ginny had been much the same. Manipulating this girl shouldn't be hard, either, given the time.  
  
He'd begun to wonder if perhaps she wasn't some kind of witch anyhow. Perhaps not an "undiscovered" witch, but one who'd been purposely left uneducated. He'd heard that the Asian culture had completely different traditions concerning magic. It was viewed more of as a curse than a gift, and widely ignored by the wizarding populace. That was why his power had failed to take hold in the Asian countries.  
  
Their mythology of wizardry and magic was much different than the western view. Magic gifted to humans, according to their legend, had nearly ripped the world asunder. The gods had barely rescued the world, and such. Tom found the theory to be rather ludicrous. A talent was given to be used, not squandered and forgotten. If the wizarding community was too afraid to use their powers, then they were scum deserving to be wiped off the face of the world as well.  
  
This girl, however, seemed to have a grip on her magic. Maybe not a focused one, but some unconscious understanding of its abilities. There could be no other explanation for the rate that he was healing at. That itself was a thought worth wondering over. If the girl could heal at will–subconscious or not–then perhaps, wouldn't it be best to use this girl for what he  
  
could? _"Actually,"_ she replied, _"it's been about two days."_  
  
Ah. Well, then, that explained it. He thought it had seemed a bit long. Time was more than a little disjointed, though, for a memory locked in a diary. It ran strangely, brokenly, skipping far ahead sometimes and lagging at others.  
  
_"You must have been busy."_ The image of politeness, little good-boy Tom. He hated that name. He hated it so very, very much. If only he was back in a real body, able to do what he wished, rather than having to rely on this girl. And what thanks he would have for his savior. How **ever** would he express his gratitude?  
  
He wondered when he'd manage to gain this girl's trust. Yes, he wanted his own body back, but for the moment... any body would do. Just to be able to move, to feel, to speak again... Even if it were from a foolish child's body, he could accept it. He was desperate.  
  
And did he ever envy this simpleton, who could move and feel and talk. People always took for granted the simplest things in life, like being able to move and hear and smell and see. Tom longed for that again, amongst other things.  
  
She had not answered, and it had been a fair span of time. _"Are you alright?"_ As though he cared, again. The thought of actually minding, though, if not for his own selfish reasons was a disturbing nag at the back of his mind.  
  
_"I... think so,"_ she responded, writing slowly, as though she were thinking her response through. _"I haven't had a wonderful day, though." Was that all? Her sniveling little "problems?" _What kind of problems could a non-wizarding teenage muggle girl have? How ridiculous.  
  
And he hated playing the goody little two-shoes. It was too much like his entire school career. _"Would you like to talk about it?" Please say no. Please don't bother me with your silly little sentimental drivel like that Weasley girl did, he prayed to himself._ Still, it had been his ability to listen to that brainless drivel that had given him power of her.  
  
_"Thanks for the offer, but I don't think you could help me much with that."_ There was a pause, as though she were debating something, a question. Finally, words scribbled in that same thin ink appeared. _"How did you get to be inside of a diary, Tom? Surely you weren't always like you are now."_  
  
So she was curious, was she? Curiosity had killed the cat. Luckily for her, she was just a silly brainless girl. _"It was by my own choice."_ He was trying to avoid truly answering the question; there was no way he could explain it to a child that hadn't grown up in the world of wizardry.  
  
_"You chose to... to be a diary,"_ she asked. Her handwriting was scribbled hastily, and with little care. She was surprised, if nothing else. He could, perhaps, understand her feelings. Still, this conversation could give him more leverage than he'd begun to imagine.  
  
_"There were some that I knew who wanted nothing more than to destroy me. In an effort to save myself, I hid my self in this book,"_ he explained. The tale was only half true, and only when taken as a fanciful version of the truth. "I've been trapped here for fifty years." Which was, he guessed, a very close guess, give or take a few years.  
  
_"Trapped? For fifty years,"_ came her reply. She could not believe such a length of time. He understood; muggles and wizards ages much differently. A muggle could expect to live perhaps eighty to ninety years if they were lucky. Most wizards' life spans tended to be twice that, although their visible age kept up with a muggle's until about their fiftieth or so year.  
  
_"It's been a long time,"_ he admitted. And it had. Such a long, long time. And he had tasted freedom and life and the world not so long ago. A taste that lingered with him, that he yearned for, that burned in him. He wanted more. _"What I would give to be able to live again..."_  
  
For a long moment, there was no reply. He'd begun to wonder if he'd triggered the alarm bells. She was silly, and rather foolish, but she wasn't completely blind. He would have laughed if he'd had a mouth and vocal chords when she replied. _"Is there something I can do to help you?"_  
  
Oh, she was right within his grasp. He had her, he could win, he could almost taste his victory. _"There is one way, but... it's not something I would recommend."_ He needed to lead her in, to bait her curiosity and her sympathy. He had to move with sublime care, or he would lose, and in the worst way. If he slipped and fell now, there couldn't possibly be redemption from his mistake.  
  
_"Why? Is there something I can do?"_  
  
_"You'd be willing to help me? It would be asking for quite a bit. More than I can ask for you, even as a friend."_ The anticipation almost made him ache. Oh, would she bite? Would she take the bait? What if she smelled the lie, smelled the trap? He had a feeling she must have had powerful friends; power tends to attract power. If he made the wrong move, sounded suspicious, she might turn him in. She might have the book destroyed beyond repair or have him exorcized.  
  
_"You think of me as a friend?"_ Oh, move cautiously, he warned himself. He was an inch away from his goal and an inch away from peril at the same time. It was enough to make him want to tear the pages out of his binding.  
  
_"You are my **only** friend,"_ he confirmed solidly. He should have been pleased with himself; he knew that she'd taken this hook line and sinker from the way her penmanship on the above line had shook. She wasn't afraid, per se, but she was shocked. She wasn't the only one, though–Tom was quite surprised with himself, too.   
  
Tom had never considered friends to be an important subject. He liked allies and admirers, and even people who feared him or loved him for whatever reason... those were things he could trust, blind love and true fear and zealousness. He'd never bothered to make friends, not real friends, although he'd always had a silver tongue. He'd sung to them like some jeweled canary, sung to them quite sweetly, and they'd followed like demure little lambs, even as they died.  
  
To his surprise, though, he honestly meant it when he called this foolish child his friend. It was ridiculous, because he had no room in his plots for a girl who knew magic in her heart but not her mind. He had people to kill, a world to conquer. He wanted no queen or slave, just him on his throne as he watched the mudbloods and muggles bleed to death. He'd known her for all of two weeks, at best, and she had been half afraid of him through the whole time; she'd hardly told him a thing of use. And yet there it was, plain as day or the nose that had once been on his face, simple as whistling a tune or killing a person. It was almost instinctive.  
  
Perhaps, one day, he'd have the time to examine it. For now, though, he was treading dangerous waters, and there wasn't time for foolish thoughts like the ones he'd been entertaining.  
  
_"I'm sorry," _came her reply. That genuinely shocked him, and puzzled him at once, that she was surprised. Before he could asked she'd begun to explain herself. _"It's not that I don't think you're a nice person. But... it would... I think that would be awfully lonely,"_ she finished.  
  
She couldn't imagine living without friends. It was hard enough, seeing Mamoru, and him being almost oblivious to her existence. He thought of her as a silly little girl again, and there weren't even words to describe the pain that inflicted. She hugged the small black book a little closer to her chest, thankful that she'd been given such a unique friend. It was beginning to seem to her that they'd been put together for a reason; Tom seemed to need her as much as she needed him at the moment.  
  
Little did she know that he needed her much, much more than she could dream of.  
  
He decided to take a gamble, then. He could lie to her, and she would never know. There was a reason that he'd managed to remain in Hogwarts without being expelled, after all. His silver tongue could sing a song as sweet as a canary's.  
  
So he told her that there had been one girl, once, a girl with hair as bright as flames. She would have saved him, too, but a young man had come to stop him. The story was true, of course, but Tom twisted it like a person would wring a shirt; he told it the way he wanted her to hear it. Without cause, this young man had deemed him to be evil and had nearly destroyed him with powerful magic that no child his age ought to have possessed.  
  
It was half true and half a lie, but in its entirety, it was false. He knew it, but he didn't care. She'd never know the difference. But he wondered if perhaps the story had been too far-fetched. He hated the feeling of being on pins and needles. He needed to summon up his courage and end it, for better or worse.  
  
Surprisingly enough–this girl was always full of surprises, he was finding–she bridged the gap for him. _"But how? How could she have saved you? You're... I thought you said you were stuck in the book, Tom."_  
  
_"I could get out, if I had a body–or a body that was willing to house my soul for a short while. It takes a tremendous amount of power, of course, and the "host," per se, must be willing."_ If he'd had breathe to hold, he'd be turning blue!  
  
_"How much power,"_ she finally dared to respond after a few minutes of passing.  
  
_"On a scale of one to ten? Perhaps an eight. You have that kind of power, though–I've felt it since you picked it up. To be honest, I don't believe I'd still be around if it had been anyone else. You have a sort of healing aura to you."_ It was the truth, and the best way he could put it. Had he been too bold?  
  
_"Then do you think I could...?"_ The question was left unfinished, but they both knew what she meant.  
  
_"If you wanted to. Without the desire to, you can't expect to get anywhere. You have the talent, though."_ It was true. Oh, Morgana **(1)**, if only she had the ambition for it, he prayed.  
  
_"I do. I'd do anything to help any of my friends, and that means you, too."_  
  
He **almost** felt guilty for having led her to it. Almost. But he needed it, to find freedom. He had things to do, and people to seek vengeance upon.  
  
_"Then allow me to instruct you."_  
  


  
  
He staggered to his feet in this unfamiliar body. The muscles knew how to move, but he felt like a ghost not quite settled into the body. He either moved it to fast or too slow. It was because the weight and the height were off, because he was not a he anymore. He was dwelling in a girl's body.  
  
He rose, shakily, trying to master it. Merging with Ginny had not prepared him for this. It had taken more energy than normal to get in because of her power. Whatever it was, it gave her abilities, but it also tried to protect her. In this case, against an invader–him.  
  
He staggered to the dresser drawer and looked into the mirror connected to it. The face that gazed back at him was not his own; it was so alien it disturbed him. He touched the soft pink lips that weren't his own, the flushed cheeks, the hair flowing down. So this was the girl who had helped him.  
  
"Not mine, though," he croaked ruefully in a voice that was not his own. She was cute, in a way unlike that of the elfin redhead. She was no beauty, but...  
  
He was blacking out, he realized, his control slipping away from him. He knew that he wouldn't be able to stay in the body for long–the first time never lasted for more than a few minutes–, but apparently the powers that had sought to keep him out were rejecting him prematurely. This was going to be harder than he'd previously thought.  
  
It was a good thing that Tom Marvolo Riddle did enjoy a good challenge.  
  


  
  
Usagi woke up, in a daze. Something had happened. She'd done as Tom had suggested–placing her hands palm down on the cover and reciting the words that he wrote out for her–and then... there had been a rush of something like wind. Only it wasn't physical. Perhaps it had been power of some kind. That would have explained the adrenaline rush, at least.  
  
And then...? The next thing she could recount was waking up on the floor of her room, several feet away from the book. What had happened? Had it worked? She should have gone to ask Tom, but... she felt odd. As though something had been tampered with that would have been best left alone. She was probably just being superstitious, but it worried her.  
  
Why had she blacked out like that? It was like... It was unlike anything she'd ever known. It wasn't blacking out, it was Blacking Out. It wasn't anything like sleeping or fainting. The closest thing she could pin it to was the sensation of the "laughing gas" the dentist sometimes put her under. And then... nothing. It was like she was simply gone, like her brain had been switched off, like she'd disappeared.  
  
It frightened her.  
  
She couldn't explain exactly why it frightened her. No harm had come to her, and aside from the fact that she'd "lost time," so to speak, she couldn't name anything wrong. Something did feel wrong, though.  
  
Like looking at water and seeing the rainbow sheen of oil on top. Like the smell of acrid smoke after a thunderstorm. Like eating your favorite food and discovering that, due to your cold, its taste has been tainted on your very taste buds.  
  
She eyed the journal carefully, wondering if maybe she'd gotten herself into something more perplex than she'd previously thought. What should she do? She could tell Rei, of course. Rei knew so much about spirits and the dead, having worked in a temple and shrine her entire life, and she'd be able to help Usagi. Any of her friends would be willing to help her, really. But...  
  
There was always that "but."  
  
Tom had confided in her. Not as someone who needed help, per se, but someone who needed a friend. Someone who was hurt, and lonely. He hadn't asked more from her than she was willing to give. If she broke her trust with him, and he had nothing to do with any of this, then she would be at fault. There was no crime worse–at least to her–than betraying a friend.  
  
Why did it feel like betrayal, though? Usagi bit her thumb contemplatively, worried. Why did it feel like betrayal? Well, he had asked her not to tell anyone. But that was suspicious wasn't? But he'd explained himself, and Usagi could understand–someone who misunderstood Tom's predicament might think he was something evil rather than a trapped boy.  
  
She warred with herself internally over the manner for some time, unable to come to a decision. Finally, she gave up, and decided she'd just sleep on the matter. She could figure it out in the morning. Still, even as she lay in the dark waiting for dreams to come overtake her, she was dismayed. Less than a month ago, she would have told her friends about this immediately. What had come over her?  
  


  
  
Another week passed by, and then yet one more. In the space of that time, Usagi didn't black out again. Tom didn't ask her to repeat the experience–she'd explained her discomfort with the idea–but he had expressed his gratitude that she'd been willing to go through it for him. Usagi got to know him better, bit by bit, and they had plenty of time to do so. She didn't even realize it, but by the time the next month rolled around, her handwriting in English had improved a great deal, even though it wasn't marvelous.  
  
Usagi had hesitantly begun to tell him more. Actually, the truth be told, she didn't mind telling him about her life with her family or at school; there wasn't much to tell. But she was more than a little hesitant to divulge in him her number one secret. After all, revealing who she was to anyone was not only dangerous for herself but for her friends though.  
  
She had developed a sense of trust, though, with Tom. He never criticized her when she told him how she felt about things like school, and she'd expected he would have told her–much like Luna–to be more diligent. He'd listened to her sympathetically when she'd told him the not-quite-truth that her boyfriend had broken up with her. He'd even tried to give her some advice on the matter, even though she could tell he knew less about love than she.  
  
That startled her, of course, but she didn't comment on it. Instead, she thanked him for his help, and in truth was quite grateful. His patience with her warmed her heart; the senshi had tired long ago of her whining about Mamoru. And although she could understand that, it still hurt her. Mamoru meant more to her than anything else ever had been.  
  
Usagi slowed down on her way to Rei's temple. Mamoru was the most important part of her life? When had that developed? Or rather, when had she started thinking of that as unreasonable? Now she came to a complete stop, thinking things over. In fact, the truth of the matter was that she hadn't thought of Mamoru in her usual whistful way for over three days. Was she getting over him?  
  
A short pain struck her, a dull throb. Not pain from realizing that she'd forsaken her dearest, but pain from knowing that her feelings were changing. What were they changing to, though? She still felt strongly for him, so it wasn't that she'd forgotten. She just... didn't feel the same. She didn't have that heart-pounding, skin-tingling reaction to the very thought of him.  
  
Instead, the main focus of her life seemed to have shifted to Tom. Perhaps it was even at ridiculous lengths. She'd even taken to taking him with her to school! It was because he never told her he didn't want to talk to her, though, and he always had such interesting things to say. For a young man trapped in the pages of a book, he knew a great deal. Much of what he knew about she hadn't even heard of, but he insisted that it was bound to be her birthright, with such a powerful gift.  
  
He'd even taken to teaching her simple spells, and he swore that if he ever got out of the book he'd teach her how to properly use them. She wasn't sure how to feel about that, except sorry for Tom, because she'd begun to recognize just how much he longed to have his own body.  
  
And why not? How would she feel, to be blind and deaf and unable to taste or touch or feel? He couldn't even talk in the traditional ways of humans. He couldn't explain to her how their communication worked, but she had a feeling that it wasn't entirely pleasant on his end. It seemed terribly unfair to her that he should have to feel pain and yet have no body to experience the joys that went with pain.  
  
She'd even suggested to him, just once, that perhaps they should try talking to Rei. If anyone could help him, she'd said, it would be Rei. But Tom had rejected the idea, though not violently. He'd said that she might mistake him for something truly awful. Usagi had respected his decision, although she had been a bit disappointed.  
  
Should she be worried about this? She wasn't sure. It was so hard. And why couldn't she simply trust him? It shouldn't be so hard. She'd spend about a month with him–in a strange way, he lived with her. He meant well, he treated her kindly... What more could she ask for?  
  
Come to think of it, Tom had shown her a side that even Mamoru hadn't shown to her. Perhaps she really was being too hard on him. He treated her better than even her best friends and conspirators did sometimes. Not that they had ever hurt or something so ridiculous, but Tom seemed to have infinite patience with her.  
  
Tom... she wondered what he had looked like when he'd still had a human body. Maybe it was superficial of her to think that he must have been incredibly handsome. Tall, dark hair, beautiful eyes, enigmatic... She flushed, dashing away her thoughts. What was she thinking? She might not be passionately in love with Mamoru, but she was still... well, she still thought of him dearly, and aside from that, she wasn't ready to move on. Her heart still hurt from her ordeals.  
  
Tonight, she decided, she'd see if he wanted to try the body displacement thing again. It had made her feel uncomfortable, but she was willing to do it for her friend. And that was what he was to her–a good friend. That was all, of course.  
  
Right?  
  


  
  
Carefully, Tom moved around the room, adjusting to the body. This was his second time to be in Usagi's body, and it didn't seem to be rejecting him in such a violent manner. He could still feel that itch trying to push him out, but it wasn't an overpowering force.  
  
Perhaps he was winning her over.  
  
He looked in her mirror again, getting a better look at the girl he'd only seen briefly before. She had a heart-shaped face with sparkling, bright blues. Her skin was fair but not incredibly pale. A small pink mouth that looked perfect for pouting. Her figure wasn't amazing, but he had to admit that she had nice legs.  
  
He had to admit that she looked cute, though she wasn't a "beauty." The truth of the matter was that seeing her physical form didn't change what she was to him. She would be incredibly useful to him as a pawn.  
  
She looked innocent enough, and could pose for a normal muggle, having lived as one her entire life. She had incredibly energy and potential that was almost untapped; he had only just begun teaching her. She had willingly allowed him to use her body as his vessel, and from here on out it would only become easier to take control. She would be the best disguise he could hope for if he needed to meet his Death Eaters. Most of all, she trusted him, and to have this kind of power by his side–once trained–would be invaluable to his efforts.  
  
She slept now, in a silence not unlike death. She wasn't even aware of her existence. He had plans for her, for this body. And if she did for him what he asked–as he knew she would do if he just maneuvered himself in the right way–he'd reward her in ways that she couldn't begin to imagine.  
  


  
  
**Notes (on the story):  
(1)** – Merlin was a sorcerer in the "King Arthur" legend type stuff, and Morgana was the sorceress. Since Morgana's the evil one, I thought it would be more suiting for a bad guy to call on her than Merlin.  
  
**Author's Notes:**  
Erm, that's it for this chapter. I hope you guys liked it. I really, really do. If you don't mind, I'd really appreciate a review/email telling me how you felt about it. If you ask me a question or leave an interesting comment, I promise to reply in the next chapter. 


	2. The Middle

Cruel Angel

_The Middle_

Author Info:

**Written by:** Tenshi no Nozomi

**Contact at: **tenshi(underscore)no(underscore)nozomi(at)hotmail(dot)com

OR

lasohaney(at)neo(dot)tamu(dot)edu

**Warnings:** Same as last

**Disclaimer: **Standard; I don't own the characters, just the plot. Not making any money off of this.

**Thanks to: **All of the people who took the time to review the last chapter; you guys are the best. Also, special thanks to my friends and betas Usa-chan and Pokahydee, who always encourage me to do my personal best.

**Author's Notes:** (NOTE: EDITED!)

_Previously posted up in this position was an accusation of plot stealing for a challenge. I am currently RETRACTING that statement–it was a huge error on my behalf, that should have been solved long before this ever became public, which would have been easier if it weren't for a mistake in her email address listed on her bio. So now onto the apology, because I owe one to a lot of people!_

Those of you who have read the second chapter of Cruel Angel are probably aware of the fact that I accused Jay Ficlover of plot theft for her challenge. That was only two days ago. I was unable to contact her at the time, and between the last 48 hours there's been a lot of fallout, and a lot of discussion between the two of us and alot of name calling and yelling and those sorts of things between her and alot of my reviewers.

We have, however, managed to lay to rest the issue, or at least I do believe at this point in time that the conflict is over. After having finally seen the challenge in its entirety--and not the simple snippet featured on Heroine's first chapter, which sounded ALOT like my story--I can say that without a doubt that I was wrong, and that while there are some basic similarities in our stories I do believe that in the long one they're trivial in comparison to the rest of the story.

I want to offer an apology to Jay and Heroine specifically--I'm sorry that I dragged your good names through the mud, and I'm certainly sorry that you, Jay, believe that I think you're incapable of originality because that is obviously not true. I want to apogize to my friends and the other people here who came to defend me--it turns out that I made an extreme error, and I'm very, very sorry, because now I've cried wolf, though entirely by accident, I assure you all. If you can no longer respect me as a fellow author, I do understand, though I regret that's so. I still feel that I have a lot to offer.

I do also hope that we can all forgive each other for the mean things we've said in the last two days (as trite and Disney-esque as that sounds) and just go on, because this is still a community and in order to grow as a community and as people and as authors, we need to be able to depend on each other for support and advice, not just in cases of actual plagiarism (which this one was NOT) but all the time as we try to develop our abilities.

Thank you all for listening to what I have to say. Again, I cannot express through words just how sorry I am that I involved so many incredible people in this.To Jay... I hope you realize that alot of the people who've gotten upset over the past days have yelled truly ARE talented--I consider most of them my equals, if not my betters. These are the same people that, someday, should something like this happen to you, will defend you too (believe it or not)--so try not to hold this experience against them.

Sincerely,

Tenshi no Nozomi

0llllllll0

Suspicion and worry had, by now, given way to alarm. Rei and the others had been watching Usagi very carefully for almost a month now, since Usagi had begun to act so strangely. It wasn't that her behavior was outlandish, but it was... abnormal.

Over a month's time ago Usagi had stopped going out with them on casual occasions. At first they'd still met at the Crown Arcade, probably because the odangoe head simply couldn't resist, but the situation had digressed over time. Now they only saw her at school and at the sparse scout meetings at Rei's temple–sometimes she didn't even show up there.

Usagi was spending less time with them, and apparently for no reason at all. She wasn't even spending the time with Naru and Umino, her old friends, and Luna had reported that Usagi spent most of her time in her room, locked away. That kind of behavior might have been expected from Ami if there was some giant test coming up, but Usagi was far too social for that kind of act at any point in time. Aside from that, she had no desire to be studious, and she avoided writing at all costs.

She didn't seem to be mad at them, either. She would talk to Ami and Makoto cheerfully at school, and at Senshi meetings she would laugh and joke with them like she always had. And yet every day after that bell rang, Usagi was one of the first students out the door if she could help it. And only to go home!

Strangest of all, perhaps, was that she no longer seemed to moon over Mamoru. Yes, she seemed pained when she saw him, but now she was able to smile and greet him casually without bursting into tears or trying to reinstate his memories. This was unusual, if not impossible. Usagi's feelings for Mamoru had run deep, and Usagi had not so long ago sworn that she'd love Mamoru forever. True love or not, the vibes coming from her at the time had reflected very strong emotions. Now it was all but gone. It made Rei suspicious.

Then there was that feeling. That awful sensation she got sometimes when Usagi came around. It only happened occasionally, but it was a feeling similar to throwing up; her body went cold and clammy, her throat seemed to close up, and her stomach rolled uneasily like a stormy sea. Rei couldn't explain it, and she hadn't mentioned it to the other scouts, mostly because when she tried to look into it, the Great Fire couldn't tell her anything.

Another first, or almost first. Typically, if Rei asked the Great Fire a question, it would answer her, if there was an answer. Every time she asked what it was that made her feel crippled with sickness, though, the fire came up with nothing, simply crackling as though it were some everyday flame with no magical properties.

Whatever it was, Rei decided, it had to have something to do with Usagi's changing habits. Rei bit her lip, contemplating what she ought to do. Usagi obviously didn't know that she was in danger, because she acted fine, aside from her streak of reclusiveness. If only they knew more...

She would talk to Luna, the raven haired priestess decided, for all the good it would probably do. Maybe the guardian cat would know more them, would be able to spy. There was no other choice, and if Rei was right, they couldn't afford to ignore the problems anymore. Something had to be done now before things truly got out of control.

The only way to get a hold of Luna, though, without having to go through or see Usagi was to speak with Artemis. Rei didn't want to pass the information on to many people–especially not the other scouts, seeing that nothing was confirmed yet–but she had to know. For now, it was just the question of Usagi's safety. But if it wasn't handled quickly, it could become a much bigger problem.** (1)**

Rei left her meditation stance and went inside to change out of her formal clothes. She hurried the process along and was out the door in another five minutes. Rei prayed that their luck would hold out long enough for them to help their princess.

0ll0

Usagi sat at the table in the café, feeling conspicuous and uneasy. Not to mention exhausted, a state she'd been in most of the week. It was because of the many times that Tom had requested to use her body. Usagi didn't mind, if anything, she tried to be compassionate; she couldn't imagine what it was like to be trapped in a book, paralyzed and blind and deaf. But even so, when it was over she felt exhausted, like she hadn't gotten any sleep.

Tom had requested that Usagi go to this place to meet with someone that he'd once known–someone, he claimed, who could help him. It had only taken a minimum amount of begging to get her to agree to it. In fact, he'd really only had to mention it, and Usagi had given way.

She touched the leather bound book, as though she could absorb security and courage from it just by being in contact with it. It felt smooth and cool to her touch, just like it always did. She looked up at the clock again, removing a stray strand of hair from her face–it was 12:05. Whoever it was that Tom wanted to meet up with was late by thirty five minutes.

Usagi fidgeted, nervously. Tom had asked her to let him take over her body, but only after their guest had arrived. Usagi wasn't even sure how she would recognize the person; Tom hadn't been able to tell her what he'd be wearing or even what he or she looked like. He'd simply requested that when the time came he be allowed...

"Excuse me," a deep voice asked Usagi from behind. She turned her head to look at the speaker–it was a very tall man dressed in drab, black robes with white-gold hair. "You wouldn't happen to be Tsukino Usagi?"

Usagi gulped, heart hammering in her throat, and stood up, nodding. This man was obviously a foreigner–how else could you explain his dress?–but he spoke like a native Japanese citizen and there was an air of nobility around him. "Hai. You're the one Tom spoke of," she said, not really asking, just confirming.

He nodded, and Usagi took a deep breath. It was time. "Please, take a seat," she said, her voice wobbling like a drunk trying to walk the line. She invoked the spell that she had taken the time to set up earlier, and it began.

There were no flashing lights or glittering and there was no sound of music. Nothing to signify the change to anyone who wasn't supposed to know. But Usagi felt that strange, disconcerted feeling–like she was drifting away, perhaps to sleep, but she couldn't quite bring herself to care. Her vision became fuzzy, and she felt lightheaded and weightless.

Before she blacked out, she could hear his voice in her head–rich and fairly deep, for a boy that she'd imagined to be her age, perhaps a little older. Just two simple words, but she marveled over them–amazing how he could make two words like that sounds like lyrical, melodious notes of music. And stranger still were the fluttering emotions those sounds elicited from her.

"_Thank you._"

And then Usagi was gone, as though she'd never existed. Her body swayed like a tree dancing in the wind, and Lucius actually considered reaching out to steady the girl when she righted herself. But when Lucius looked in her eyes, it was like her personality had transformed before his very eyes.

Before she had seemed timid and uneasy–foolish, weak. Now... she looked completely confident. The small smirk on her face was one of recognition. And the glint in her narrowed azure eyes wasn't one of happiness, but of clever consideration. "Hello, Lucius," she said. He stiffened; it was his name, but how she knew it... and the way she said it...

"Just who are you?" he asked, hand reaching inside his cloak for his wand. Perhaps this had been a trap after all. Instead of anything explosive occurring, she simply sat back down in her chair. But her posture was different; she was lounging comfortably, confidently... _arrogantly_.

She smiled. "Don't you know?" She was mocking him, enjoying this. He gritted his teeth, wanting to blast her with the Cruciatus curse right there and then–that would wipe that smug look right off her face. He'd make her beg him to kill her, to end the pain, to put an end to her pitiful meaningless existence–

"How many men do you know of by the name 'Tom Marvolo Riddle?'" she drawled. Lucius froze; this must be a trap. He'd expected the ministry or Dumbledore to try something, anything, after he managed to escape from Azkaban. He had certainly kept his head down for a long time. He had taken an extreme risk in responding the anonymous Owl Post to come to Japan–even with the Death Eater's insignia at the bottom, he remained suspicious.

The waitress came and asked them for their order–the girl ordered both of them tea and small, sweet pastry cakes. She smiled courteously at the young lady, and Lucius could see that the young woman was easily charmed by the blonde's attitude despite the fact they were both obviously girls and he doubted the waitress was interested in the same sex romantically. What was going on here?

"Do you remember that diary?" she asked him, spinning a lock of her golden hair between her index finger and thumb idly, watching him with those dark blue eyes glittering. Was it intelligence he saw there? Or cruelty? "The special one? Whatever happened to it, Lucius?" she asked sweetly, leaning forward, all smiles and sweetness, voice light and cheerful.

He could tell, though, that despite the "sunshine and bubbles" sound in her voice she was not pleased at all. It sounded too forced, and her grin was too wide, showing too many teeth to be friendly. Lucius could not believe that he was being threatened by a small girl–a Muggle or uneducated witch at the very least. And yet, there was something eerie about it, something that he couldn't quite put his finger on...

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he finally bluffed. How could she know?

Her smile was gone in an instant, and the look on her face threatened death or something far worse. She recovered a moment later, though, and smiled just as sweetly as before. "It's not nice to lie," she told him, almost sing-song. "But perhaps you just need a reminder?"

She leaned over in her chair and reached into a large canvas bag, from which she pulled out a thick, leather covered diary. Lucius felt the blood run right out of his face–he was certain that he'd gone as white as a sheet. There, in her hands, was his master's book. The diary that blasphemous brat Harry Potter had nearly destroyed, an intricate creation, the fusion of cunning and magic–a horcrux. The one that had been stabbed deep with the poisonous fang of the fabled serpent of the secret chamber. He had thought it ruined–he had thrown it away.

"How did you get that?" he hissed, his hand actually on his wand now. He was prepared to charm her, shoot her, curse her, whatever it took to get the answer–but whether he'd haul her off to torture her or simply disappear with the book, he hadn't decided quite yet–

"Well, I don't know how she did," the girl said, dropping her ultra-friendly tone. "She said she found it on the street–it was raining. However did that happen, Lucius?" she asked, her voice cold. She sounded as though she'd frozen over–her true colors seemed to be showing now, and she was ice-white and frigid cold. Her eyes held his, deadly serious.

A slow realization dawned on him. "You... You're not really this Tsukino girl, are you," he asked.

She smiled, amused. "I am–but I'm not. Care to take a guess? If you haven't figured it out by now, I'll admit it–I'm a bit disappointed in you. I suppose that age truly does slow one down." Lackadaisically, she began to flip through the pages of the book, although it didn't appear that she was really looking for anything to read on any one of them. It was just as well; the book was blank without its master in it.

"My master," he said, shoving the chair back and taking a steep bow, lowering his forehead to the floor. He was sweating now; what would happen to him? He'd been completely incompetent. He'd simply assumed that the diary had failed and been destroyed—how could anything recover from such a wound without a miracle?–and now he was going to pay for it.

Furthermore, this meant that he had _two_ masters. Twice the amount of punishment to suffer.

"Enough," she snapped at him quietly, bringing him back from his panicked thoughts. "You're drawing too much attention to us." Their food arrived, and she began to drink the tea, eating the tiny sugar coated pastries in between sips. Lucius took one sip of the bitter stuff before putting it down and setting it aside. "Now, now. Seeing that my host has been most generous to provide for this occasion, I expect you to drink your tea. All of it." Her eyes flashed a warning.

Lucius had forgotten the way their leader had been in his younger years. Bossy and cocky, mostly. And he'd always had a penchant for giving strange orders–the consequences to disobeying them had been merciless and torturous. Lucius began to drink the vile stuff, wishing for English tea already on his second sip.

"I ought to reprimand you quite thoroughly for your callous and reckless disposal of such a valuable item. However, I suppose I ought to thank you. If she hadn't found me, I don't think that I would be in any kind of condition to speak with you today." Lucius bowed his head respectfully, as was par for the role he was playing currently. He knew his place well.

"May I ask, sir, how it is that you are doing so well, then?"

She smiled again. "How? It's her... talent, shall we say."

"Then she has healed you somehow?"

"Somehow," he said, not bothering to really explain it. "Frankly, this isn't something I want to discuss here and now, Lucius. However, I thought it appropriate for you to know that I am not dead or gone by a long shot."

"Your... other self isn't, either, sir."

"Him? How's the old geezer doing?" she asked, lightly. Still, Lucius could tell that Tom–no, Voldemort–wasn't nearly so blase as he would like to appear. He was listening carefully under the guise of eating another cake and sipping on his hot tea. Was it possible that the one from the diary had intentions of usurping his older self? "Well," he prompted when Lucius failed to respond.

"Him? He is... much better now than he has been in years," Lucius said. The truth was that they both knew that for years upon years Voldemort had been nothing but a wraith, if at all alive, wandering the earth in search of vengeance and power. His younger-self–Tom, the diary self–had always seemed unconcerned by his older self's disappearance, and had only told Lucius that he doubted it would be so easy for the world to be rid of him.

"I see." Tom didn't say anything else for some time–he was considering things. There were, indeed, many things to think through. If his older, perhaps wiser, but certainly more... simian self was around, and back in a corporeal body, then it was doubtful that his followers would flock to them the way he had hoped. Whether he was completely foiled, though, depended on several things–his followers and his current host. Ess.

"I see," she murmured again, and drank the remainder of her tea. This would take much more thought than he'd originally counted on. Now it seemed that he was the one without a body and his other self was the one not lacking. And it was all bound to be that damn Potter boy's fault.

Tom had a headache, though. And he could feel the body beginning to reject him. That same magic that had rescued him was forcing him from her body back into the diary. But he would not allow Malfoy to see him like this. The last thing he wanted was for his one follower–the link back to his position–to see him weakened.

"Very well. I will call again on you, sooner or later," he told Malfoy, rising. He smoothed out her skirt–he was not so presumptuous as to think of it as "their" skirt; this body had no intention of allowing him to stay–and paid for the meal with her money. "Do not speak a word of this to any of the other Death Eaters unless you receive orders from me–do I make myself clear?"

To emphasize his seriousness, Tom concentrated on the brand located on Malfoy's arm. It was clear from the way he clutched at his arm and his sharp intake of breath that it hurt him quite a bit. Tom was pleased; the rust was slowly wearing off. "Shadow" or not, he still laid perfect claim to his powers.

"Of course, my lord." He bowed just a little bit, not enough to attract undesirable attention, but enough to show reverence. Recognizing a dismissal for what it was, Lucius hurried off to transport himself back to his manor–he had much to consider himself.

It took all of the energy that Tom had not to stagger out of the café. Not even a block away, his control slipped entirely and he was thrown back into the diary. Usagi resumed control, but not before falling onto the concrete. Even after she picked herself up, she wished she'd just lain there, at least for a little while–she was so tired. So very, very tired. Perhaps she'd go home and take a nap. Just a small one.

_Yeah. That's what I'll do_, she told herself, picking herself up off the pavement. Home wasn't so far. And she could make it up the stairs with the promise of a nap in mind, no problem. So Usagi trudged home, like the weight of the world rested on her shoulders, feeling like she hadn't slept well in weeks.

0ll0

Luna regarded the book with suspicion. This was what Usagi had been reading–and writing in, it seemed–so religiously for the past month. Like an obsessed creature, she spent hour after hour writing into it, occasionally laughing, sometimes aww or cooing over it. Luna had not informed Rei about the book just yet–she had nothing to confirm her suspicions.

So Luna had decided that when Usagi wasn't around and got careless and left the book out, she would go through it. Until now, she had always carefully put the book back in its place in her dresser drawer–a place Luna could not get into, what with the lack of an opposable thumb. Or fingers, for that matter. Today, however, Usagi had been so exhausted before dropping into sleep–fully clothed–on her bed that she had left the book in the canvas bag she'd carried it off in.

Luna had not had an opportunity this entire time–only Usagi's fatigue had given her an opening. So despite her guilt in taking advantage of Usagi's moment of weakness, she took it.

Digging her paw into the bag, Luna managed–with quite a bit of effort–to drag it out, despite the clumsiness of her paws. She then flipped the cover open with her nose. She expected something, anything, after watching Usagi record notes in it, reading for days on end. She was greeted with the view of a blank page.

Luna's eyes narrowed in suspicion; she tried to turn the page in an effort to find the title, but she was clumsy. The pages turned in a clump of ten or twelve. Still blank. Luna glared at the book, the hair on the back of her neck rising. Indeed, the great majority of her purple-black hair was standing on end, and Luna could almost smell something vile coming from the book.

She flipped more pages. More empty pages. She went through the entire book, and there was not a single letter printed on any one page. It was entirely blank.

She suspected, however, that this book wasn't what it appeared to be. No normal book could choose who could access its knowledge. It was plain to see though that someone or something was hiding the secrets the pages held. Luna would have bet all of her nine lives that whoever or whatever it was interfering with the book was no good.

Tom knew that someone was trying to look at the book. Tom could feel it, almost like they were touching him–but it was more or less just a pressure or a sense of invasion. Maybe that feeling that someone's watching you but you don't know who or where. Tom didn't worry, that they'd find anything out–whoever it was obviously wasn't Usagi, and Tom wasn't going to reveal himself to this stranger, not even if they solicited him. It did, however, clue him in to several things.

The first of which was that Usagi had been careless. He must have used too much energy–normally she was quite careful, more so than she'd normally be due to his insistence. She didn't write in the book around other Muggles–just in the privacy of her own room. Someone, though, still knew about the presence of the book. Tom had a feeling that they suspected something, too. Which meant that it was probably only a matter of time before he was discovered, and he still had so much to do.

Luna considered taking the book to Rei then and there. She probably would have, but it would be too difficult for her to try to carry the heavy book in her mouth for long. And Usagi was only napping–she'd be up soon, and she'd notice it. Besides, it was always possible that she was being paranoid. Still, looking at the book left an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

That was what made Luna do it. She didn't take the book away. Instead, though, she headed to the Shrine. Rei could call on the Senshi, and they'd discuss Usagi's odd behavior, and perhaps more importantly, the oddity of the book in question. Rei would be able to judge it more accurately than Luna, and the Senshi could come to a group decision.

Luna knew that this was a betrayal to Usagi's privacy and trust. There was a good chance, she realized grimly, that if they did spring into action Usagi would never be able to interact with them the same again. Oh, in time she would probably forgive them, but she would never be able to forget it, and the experience was bound to taint their relationships.

_Better that she's alive and bitter than dead, though,_ Luna decided, padding out the room with one last regretful look at her sleeping charge.

Tom, too, was thinking. Or rather, in his case, scheming–there was rarely a time that he hadn't been plotting in his fifty or so years in captivity. That was the one nice thing about not having senses to distract him–it left him free to think things through sensibly.

He was running out of time, now, probably. In any case, he didn't want to spend another month trapped as a book. In contacting Lucius, he had started the gears turning, anyhow, and it was inescapable that they move forward from that point–this was just added incentive for him to be quick about it.

This meant several things, he decided. He needed to discover Usagi's true background. If she was, as he theorized, a descendant from a long line of wizards who'd simply tried to forget their history, then he would take her and teach her–perhaps, in time, she would become a Death Eater herself. Surely such incredible power was not possessed by a Mudblood.

If, however, he could not find evidence of her lineage, he couldn't keep her for much longer. Pawns were pawns in the end, and if she wasn't material enough to get him where he needed to be he had no qualms about ditching her. Her body–and ultimately, her power–continued to force himself after less than an hour inhabiting it. He doubted that possession was an option. With Lucius's help, however, it would be possible for him to sacrifice her. There was, he knew, a spell in the Dark Arts that could give him a body in exchange for hers... the only twist to that was that it had to be _willing._

And even that stupid Weasley girl wasn't quite dumb enough to willingly give up her body.

And then, some women might... Another plan to hatch in his mind, like a poisonous snake emerging from it's paper thing shield. Yes, a woman in love would sacrifice her life for her child's. Perhaps a girl in love would be foolish enough to sacrifice her body for her friend's.

Tom did not want to try to put such a plan into practice. Such a precarious idea could backfire without any help. Still, it was a thought, if all other means refused to be helpful.

It was some time later when Usagi's pen pressed to the pages of the book. _I'm sorry, I accidentally left you out... it won't happen again. I promise. Nothing happened to you, right?_

Tom would have smiled in he'd had a mouth. _No, we were lucky,_ he lied easily.

_Thank goodness,_ Usagi wrote back, her relief evident in her pen strokes. Tom would have chuckled at this; of all the forces in the world he had to thank for no harm coming to him, he doubted that was one of them.

_Tell me, Usagi... do your parents have a library in this house? Or a study? Someplace they would put family records?_

A few moments passed–she was probably thinking hard about it. Finally, she wrote, _I think so. Dad has a bunch of old books tracing back the family tree... genealogy, I think he called it? Why?_

Tom grinned to himself. Truly, someone was smiling upon him today. _I think it's time you educated yourself about your family history._

0ll0

Usagi hastily scribbled in the book again. _Tom, how much longer do I have to keep looking? I've been at this for over an hour. It's so boring_, Usagi complained.

_Just keep looking, Usagi. I know it's not fun, but it's important_, Tom insisted. Today she was truly grating on his nerves. Normally her attitude didn't bother him, but then, she'd never complained or fought with him over an issue quite like this. He could already see why her grades were so poor in whatever Muggle school she attended–the child didn't want to put any effort into it.

Usagi sighed grumpily. "I could be playing a video game, but noooo," she muttered to herself, flipping through a family history book that must have weighed five pounds. "I have to look through birth records and marriage records and death records and mortgages and all sorts of stupid, useless things," she huffed.

Usagi had already been through one of the books on her father's side of the family. Usagi had never realized that there were so many different kinds of documents that recorded a person's existence. Nor could she believe the amount of time her great aunt and her own father had taken in recording some of that information. It was simply incredible.

None of it so far had been forthcoming, however–she still had no idea whether or not her family was some kind of disbanded coven, or whatever Tom had called it. As far as Usagi was concerned, this probably meant that she wasn't part of something like that, as cool as it would have been.

Usagi riffled through the last hundred or so pages chronicling her father's most obscure branches of family, not bothering so much as to pause and glance at names and dates. "Close enough," she reassured herself, though she eyed Tom's diary guiltily.

It wasn't like it was that big a deal. Whether or not her family was full of old witches or not, it didn't change who or what she was. At least, in her opinion. Surely Tom didn't care about bloodlines _that _much?

A part of her tried to reason with her. Perhaps bloodlines were more important than she realized. Perhaps they helped to dictate what kinds of things you could do or how powerful you were. It stood to reason, anyhow, as much as anything else.

Whatever the end result, she told herself, Tom wouldn't care either way. He was her friend, and friends didn't change the basis of their opinions or feelings about you on the basis of who you're related to.

Usagi sighed again, shifting the huge tome off her lap and looked at the books that sat beside her. So that was two books down. That left a handful of other relatively small books.

Usagi opened one and discovered it was her mother's diary, back from when she was a little girl. She hesitated, weighing her desire to read it and discover with the knowledge that it was a personal document. Her eyes slid to Tom's diary, and she thought of all the things she had ever told Tom. Some of them didn't matter, but others were extremely personal, and a sign of her confidence in a friend. She would be mortified if her friends or family heard some of the things she had to say.

Usagi closed her mother's simple lavender purple diary and laid it carefully aside. So that was another book down... she just wouldn't let Tom know. He might want her to read her mother's personal thoughts, and Usagi just didn't think that she could do that.

She brought out the next book, a slightly thicker book. This one reminded her a lot of Tom's–the cover was dark leather, although this was brown not black. And on the front, in gold embossing, a crescent moon was featured on the cover. Usagi gingerly traced the symbol with her finger, her other hand going to clutch her broach.

It seemed eerily similar–it had to be some kind of coincidence. And yet, her whole life seemed to revolve around the moon. She had been the moon princess in her past life. Even now she carried on the duties of Sailor Moon. And some day, she would be asked to become the queen of Neo Tokyo and resume her duties as heir to the throne. Even her name seemed to be a reflection of its influence on her life. **(2)**

Usagi opened the book up. In neat characters, she recognized her grand mother's handwriting. Sakura Tsukino. So this had been her father's mother's diary, it would seem. It was weird, but come to think of it, Usagi was pretty sure that she'd never met her grandmother.

Usagi flipped through the pages to a random entry. While she wouldn't read her mother's thoughts, Usagi had no qualms with delving into the private life of someone she didn't know. She discovered, however, within a few lines that this woman's diary was much less private than she could have imagined. Her blood ran cold with what she read.

_8.9.1953_

_Mother claims today she foresaw my birthing a child in her tea leaves again. This would not surprise me–with Kenji's mother's help as well Keiko, I do believe we've performed at least three succesful fertility rites. It always amazes me that Muggles don't need magical aid for this sort of thing..._

Usagi flushed with embarrassment. Leave it to good old Tsukino Usagi to find the one part in the book about making babies or fertility magic. Usagi blinked, realizing what this had meant. Tom was right, there _were_ witches in her family.

She wrote to him quickly, _I found something._

_Oh? What does it say?_

_Well, it's kind of my grandma's diary... it would take a long time to read it all... I'm just skimming through it, _Usagi admitted. She then put the pen down and took up her grandmother's diary. Who would have guessed that a diary could be informative, or that she would run into so many important ones lately?

Usagi flipped to the middle of the book–she didn't want to read anything about her father's conception, or anything in detail about fertility rites.

_4.15.1960_

_Kenji gets bolder with his magic everyday. He still can't use much of it–nothing more than lighting candles, making the wind shut the doors hard, the usual things children do. Lately he's been eyeing his father's broom with a jealous eye. I'm sure one day I'll go to get him for dinner and find him trying to use it. Yukio thinks he's found another couple with whom we can arrange for a proper marriage..._

Usagi stopped reading, once more dumbfounded by the knowledge to be found in that single passage. Her grandmother had been a witch. Her father was a wizard. An arranged marriage... Usagi's fingers shook in shock; she wasn't sure what disturbed her the most. How could they not tell her this, she wondered in disbelief, flipping further in the diary, continuing to read.

_6.12.1960_

_Kenji expressed extreme disinterest in Ikuko today. Not just Ikuko, I suppose, but also in all girls. I suppose it's his age, but he made her cry. I don't think we'll be seeing much more of her or her family. They looked positively livid when they left._

_8.2.1960_

_I'm quite surprised. The Watanabe family came back and brought Ikuko back. I think they want to give it another chance. Kenji played better this time, at least..._

Usagi flipped forward more violently. She couldn't believe what she was reading. Her mother and father had had an **arranged marriage**? Why hadn't anyone told her about any of this? Her head pounded, and Usagi found herself becoming frustrated. She'd always thought her family was open. Instead they were keeping secrets from her this entire time!

_7.19.1964_

_Kenji told us he loves his wizarding school so much he doesn't want to come home half the time... I remember how I always felt the same way. He enjoys Quidditch quite a bit, but then, what boy doesn't? He always wanted a broomstick of his own..._

_6.30.1966_

_Ikuko seems quite taken with Kenji, which is a good sign. The Watanabe family is ready to seal the contract for the marriage. I don't feel it's right, Kenji seems so young... but then, Yukio and I were engaged when we were that age. It's so confusing to be a mother and watch your child grow up..._

_4.12.1970_

_Something happened today. I'm really not sure what, but both Kenji and Ikuko seem quite upset about it. They won't even talk about it..._

_4.25.1970_

_I never thought I'd see the day my own flesh and blood turned on me. Kenji practically accused me of practicing Dark Magic. More than that, he seems to believe that if not I then our neighbors are responsible for a rash of Muggle deaths in the area. It's unbelievable!..._

_5.3.1970_

_It seems that Kenji and Ikuko are quite serious about breaking off all ties with us. Not just us, either, but her family as well–they want to raise their children to be normal. How can you raise your children to be what they're not and expect them to be normal?..._

_5.19.1970_

_Two days ago Kenji traded some terrible words. It would appear, however, that both he and his newly wed wife are disgusted by the way witches and wizards meddle with Muggles' lives. I don't understand it; we've never done anything to harm them._

_5.21.1970_

_They refuse to bend. They're moving away now, to start over. I doubt that we'll see them again. There is much bad water underneath this bridge. It breaks my heart to know that my son would rather break all ties with me than put up with what he believes to be my faults..._

Usagi stopped reading and frowned to herself. Obviously something had happened to change her parents' minds about witches and wizards. It appeared that the catalyst would be the "rash of deaths" Sakura had written about. But Muggles died all the time of strange or terrible things–why that particular case? And what kind of person could accuse their own mother of murder?

And she wondered how the diary had made its way here. Usagi flipped forward in the little book, to the last entry–which was not on the last page–and read it in its entirety, unlike the tiny snippets she'd consumed before.

_6.13.1987_

_Ikuko is pregnant with their first daughter, now. She has managed to conceive without the use of magic–in fact, they have spent the last 17 years hiding from it. It amazes me, truly. Having seen the ease that magic can take off of the strain of Muggle life, I do not think I could make it._

_It makes me terribly sad, knowing that I am alone now. We never had a big family–Yukio and I only ever had Kenji. It was the same for the Watanabes. I don't know about them, but Yukio and I only have distant cousins–one of whom has been excommunicated; he's a Squib. Perhaps that's what Kenji and Ikuko meant when they spoke of how cruel pureblood witches and wizards are. I don't know._

_Whatever it was, it has obviously scared them into this life. They seem happy enough, I suppose. But I'm filled with grief._

_With Yukio's death one year ago this winter, there's not much left in my life. My son is gone. I will never be allowed to meet my grandchildren–there will be more than one, I'm certain. The Tsukino blood has always been close-nit. My son has chosen to break a four hundred year old tradition. How our ancestors must weep with shame._

_I do not think their childrens' lives will go untouched, though. I have heard of movements like these to suppress what is natural. It cannot be done. The harder Ikuko and Kenji try squash the old traditions and the truth about the blood, the harder it will fight back. For that reason, I've decided to leave my diary here. Knowing the children of our family, one of them will be sufficiently curious to uncover it. Ikuko and Kenji will never know it's even there–refusing to recognize magic isn't a "pick-and-choose" deal. Refuse some and you must refuse all._

_Nature probably does not need my help. But Kenji has left me with bitter blood, bitter tears, and bitter memories. Whatever wrong he feels that the pureblood witches and wizards have committed, I was no part of it. What is wrong is perverting what is natural. Our blood is old, but it is strong, and it has yet to miss a child yet. That girl that wiggles in Ikuko's womb will be a witch yet–of that I am certain, and with babies, I have never been wrong._

Usagi closed the book, thoughtfully, and placed it aside. She felt numb. Usagi picked up Tom's diary as though it were made of fragile glass, and began to relay what she had discovered to them. _They hid it from me. It was mine to know, and they took it away,_ Usagi finished, unable to adequately describe the way she felt.

_And they left my grandmother miserable. They wouldn't let me meet her. Tom, she could still be out there alive somewhere...!_ Tears trembled and fell down her cheeks, splattered onto the book and smudging some of the ink. Usagi hastily wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. _Sorry,_ she apologized.

_It's alright, Usagi. It's just a little water. Now, try not to cry... but your grandmother is probably already long dead,_ Tom told her. He was sure that would make her cry harder, so he quickly spelled out the following. _What matters, though, is that you found what she left for you. This proves it, Usagi. You're a witch–a pureblood one, no less. It's quite a bit to be proud of._

_What about all of that other stuff, though? All those "family-tree" books? I had to write reports about that when I was in elementary,_ Usagi recalled, in a daze.Usagi sniffled, but managed to stave off another round of tears.

_I'm sure Muggles have ways of forging documents,_ Tom replied. _Have you even met any of those relatives in those books, Usagi?_

_You mean they lied to me? They didn't just not tell me, but they made all that up to lie to me? _Usagi was now suddenly very, very angry–angrier than she had been in a long time. She felt so stupid–all this time she'd thought that her family's eccentrics were normal. Worse than that, she'd always felt guilty for being the odd one, the one with the weird powers. And all this time they'd had it too, only they hadn't told her?

_What if I'd thought all this time I was a freak of nature? _Usagi demanded, underscoring her letters with a line drawn in very, very hard–it left crease marks in the paper. _I could have been lonely and scared this entire time because they decided they'd just shove it under the rug and pretend it wasn't there? That's... that's like trying to pretend there isn't an elephant under the rug, for crying out loud!_ Usagi punctuated the dot so hard it put a hole in three pages.

_Easy, Usagi, you're hurting me,_ Tom scolded her gently. It did hurt, a little–this was, after all, something similar to his body now. And yet, despite the minor pain, Tom was smiling on the inside. Because this was working out much, much better than he'd thought it would. Usagi was working herself up into a state of hysteria–one that he could take advantage of and manipulate for his own purposes.

_They were probably planning on telling you when you were 17, _he suggested slyly, _and you're an adult according to wizarding law._

Usagi felt like she was going to explode. _Screw that, _she wrote, seething with hurt and fury, _it's time they talked now,_ she finished, slamming the book shut.

Tom grinned. She was like dry wood in the summer heat. All it took were a few little sparks to get a raging wildfire started... And once she'd done the damage, he'd be there to "make it all better."

0ll0

"Are you sure, Luna?" Rei queried the cat one last time. The stone in her stomach felt like it had dropped to the lowest points it could reach. She had suspected, and worried; of course it had to be something serious to hide from the Great Fire. But this...

"Positive," Luna repeated vehemently. "The book was completely blank. It was hiding something, I know it." Her tail tapped the ground almost violently, just one of many signs of her ultimate irritation and worry.

The assembled senshi stood in silence. In the growing shadows of the evening, it was difficult to see everyone's expressions, but they were all a reflection of one another's–troubled. They didn't make a noise as they digested the information.

Of course, they'd always dealt with Youma attacks. Youmas were dirty, underhanded, and rather clever creatures. They struck you where you were weakest, and drove in the wedge–how many times had their friends been attacked? This, however, was a new level entirely. The invasion seemed lewd–diaries and friends were supposed to be private, sacred. But a Youma had obviously violated Usagi's privacy.

Only Rei suspected that it was not a Youma at all. No Youma could be so ingenious–they were clever, but not like this. Youmas didn't understand human concepts, such as ownership. Nor could they begin to understand something as deadly as the power of words and trust. Rei doubted they even knew what a diary's purpose was.

So then this was something else entirely. A human spirit taking host of a human object, and somehow manipulating it in such a way as to choose who and when it communicated with. It was clever, subtle, and intricate–that kind of possession would take power and innovation. To what end, though, had this person chosen Usagi? And what had she told them?

"What do we do?" Minako finally asked. "How can we beat something like this?"

"It's not possible to "beat" a book," Ami murmured, sweeping her short blue hair away from her face and behind her ear. The wind blew it forward again, fighting back.

"But it's not a real book," Makoto argued. There was something about the end of her statement, though, that made it sound like a question.

"Oh, it's a real book alright," Rei interjected. "The problem isn't the diary, though–it's what's _in_ the diary," Rei explained with a tired sigh.

"So then it's not a Youma assuming the form of a book?" Ami asked, her voice piqued with fascination.

"It's doubtful," Rei replied, taking a seat on the temple steps. She watched the last sliver of the orange sun disappear behind the trees. Rei let out another loud sigh. "It's either a ghost, or some piece of a human who can use magic." She glanced up at her friends, and informed them, "It's very much forbidden to do the later. It's considered to be one of the darkest of the Dark Arts."

"You mean there are humans who can use magic, too?" Minako gasped. "I thought we were the only ones... I mean, what with none of our souls actually being human, and all." Minako flushed a little, looking abashed.

"No. There are witches and wizards and all sorts of other things out there–all myth stems from some truth," Rei murmured.

"So what do we do?" Ami asked this time.

Rei thought for some time. "If Usagi's protecting it with the Ginzuisho, then we can't destroy it. However... if we exorcize the spirit from the object, then Usagi won't be protecting it anymore. I think, then, we can dispose of it. But there's some things I'll need to get... it may take a while to prepare for the ceremony, too."

"I can get it from her," Luna volunteered, standing up on her four legs. "I can get in there without a ruckus. And I can get it out easily enough." She sounded confident, but inside she wasn't feeling so good about this. Something told her that no matter what happened tonight they couldn't win.

Overhead, the dark clouds that had come in from the east rumbled ominously. Luna wondered if it was a sign, but scolded herself. Really, perhaps Usagi was right about this–she might very well look too deeply into things. Rain drops began to fall, few and far between and small, but it was obvious by the surprisingly cold wing that blew by that it would not be long before the skies would open up and a terrible onslaught would fall.

"You'd better hurry if you want to beat the rain," Artemis advised her. He sounded just as worried as Luna felt, and Luna felt a strange sense of relief that her companion was concerned too. Luna just nodded in return and went off on her way, not bothering to look back and watch the Senshi head inside to prepare for the ceremony.

0ll0

Usagi still felt drained. She'd fought with her parents, something she hardly ever did. The incident had ended when Shingo came home from his friend's house–Usagi was promptly sent up to her room. She saw, though, upon leaving, that she wasn't the only one with tears in her eyes.

She'd cried for quite some time in her room, despite Tom's attempts to console her. Knowing that her parents would never be able to accept her for what she was left a terribly bitter taste in her mouth. The only thing she could think to do to remedy some of her pain was to take a nice hot bath.

And so she had–she'd filled her tub with water that was nearly scalding hot, topped with bubbled. Sitting in it for even five minutes left her feeling a little lightheaded, and her skin beneath the water had turned a delicate shade of pink. The hot water took away much of her strength, and with it much of her pain. She felt numb in the aftermath.

Usagi stood up, letting the water run off her in a rush to join the water in the tub. She leaned over and unplugged the drain and then grabbed her towel. She wiped the water from her flushed skin gently, examining her pink skin. She felt clean again, not just in body, but in mind and emotionally, although she was sure that such a sensation could not last.

Toweling herself completely off, Usagi stepped out of the bathroom and back into her room. She felt better, now–she would be able to talk to Tom in a more reasonable manner, and without dripping tears all over him. Usagi went to the bed where she'd left the diary to pick him up and begin writing–and discovered he wasn't there.

A wave of uneasy confusion washed over her. _Maybe I left him on the dresser_, she decided. So Usagi went over and scanned the top of her dresser, which was messy but where Tom obviously was not. Her unease gathering in strength, she opened up the drawer she normally kept him–but he wasn't there, either, nor had she expected him to be.

Usagi began to look through her room. She fought off her panic–books didn't just simply walk off, not even Tom's did–but found herself losing the battle as she systematically searched around the room but couldn't find him anywhere. By the time she was finished, she was frantic, and close to tears again. Where was he? She was truly becoming negligent; how could she lose someone as important to her as Tom?

And that was when she noticed it. The muddy cat paw tracks across her carpet. Usagi frowned; of course Luna had made them, they had no other cats. Usagi went to her window and found it open. She quickly shut it, noting that the worst of the mud, at least, was on the window sill. She'd worry about cleaning it–and the consequences of not doing so–later.

That was when she realized it. Luna's footprints led to the bed, and although the mud grew less with each step, there were the faintest traces of dark damp water on her bed. Right where Tom had been.

Usagi remembered what Tom had told her. People had misunderstood him before. They'd tried to kill him. They'd nearly succeeded. Usagi's heart sped up impossibly fast. Luna had always been quick to jump to conclusions. If she'd found out that Tom wasn't an ordinary book, she'd consider it her duty to protect Usagi.

But where could she have taken him?

She answered the question to herself before she'd practically finished it. "Oh, no," she moaned, running to her dresser. She clothed herself faster than she could ever remember doing so, and grabbed an umbrella just in case. Granted, it had stopped raining an hour ago, but that didn't mean that it might not start again.

Usagi did what she always did when she needed to get out of the house without her parents knowing–she went out the window, and climbed down the big tree outside her window. She dropped the last five feet, wincing at the force against her feet, but ignoring the minor pain. She had to go rescue Tom before her friends made a terrible mistake. _Hold on, Tom,_ she prayed desperately, _I'm coming._ **(3)**

0llllllll0

**(1)** – I hope no one misunderstands. I'm not trying to say that Rei doesn't regard Usagi as an important friend-of course she does, if she didn't, why would she bother worrying about her?-but she also has to worry about the senshi collectively.

**(2)** – For anyone who was possibly unaware, the name "Tsukino" means "of the moon." Or something close to that. I think it's supposed to be a pun or a joke of some kind, because there's actually a "rabbit of the moon" in Japanese folklore/mythology. It apparently makes mochimochi on the moon, which Sailor Ronin Usa-chan and I both think is supposed to mean rice balls (but we're not exactly experts, so if we're wrong and you know it feel free to lecture us XD).

**(3)** – Although some people might disagree with me, I do believe that Usagi would do anything for a friend... including being brave/standing up to other people/coming to the rescue. X3

0ll0

Okay. So that's it. Read/Review/email me if you want. For those of you who like Siri/Usa fics, too, I hope to have something ready for you guys in the near future (although knowing the way my "near future" works out, I'm really hoping it's before Christmas or in time for that season.) Hope you enjoyed this chapter, sorry it was so late. I want to give a quick shout-out to all the people who reviewed chapter one:

**Danibef, OtAkU, liza, AdorableAngel, Nercia Genisis, Usagi Asia Maxwell, devilsheart, Sugar sweet, Adrelliehs, Invisible Rain, Leenie Chan, Sylverkaze, Baby Daydreamer Wiley, koldy, Heero'sBunny, Jo Raven, samisweet, Falke-ness, Jade Cerise, Dark Hamadryad, Flame Ivy Moon, astrocosmos, I laugh at you, **and **Goth Punk Princess.** That's 24 reviews in total, guys–thanks a bunch!

And a quick response to those I felt necessary:

**AdorableAngel:** No offense taken. The first chapter was kind of preliminary... this one, though, was much more action packed in my opinion. Hope you thought so too.

**Invisible Rain:** I think a lot of people forget that Usagi just isn't all-powerful and all-knowing. Even if she was all-powerful she'd be too afraid to use it. But I'm glad you appreciated the ways I've tried to make this new and different.

**Leenie Chan:** No worries, I don't think I got it twice. And thank you for all your kind words and the critique. X3

**Baby Daydreamer Wiley:** Haha, I love that song, too.

**Heero's Bunny: **:sweatdrop: I updated... took a long time, but I'm pleased with the results. And I never really forget to update–I just refuse to update unless I'm inspired. Fics tend to rot otherwise.

**Jo Raven:** I'm glad you liked it so much–and I am sorry I didn't update sooner. I never mean to leave my fics as long as I do. Time just kind of slips by when you're busy with school and stuff.

**samisweet:** If you want to talk to me about a review, I'd actually prefer it if you'd email me. It's on my bio as well as in every story I write. I appreciate the review, but I'd just rather discuss things I said further on a private, one-on-one situation. And if I remember correctly, I did review it again.

**Falke-ness:** It takes me a long to write, esp considering the length of what I produce. But I'm not dropping this one–it's my baby, and I want to finish it. If I ever consider dropping something, it will only be because 1) I've lost my inspiration and therefor it would turn out crappy or 2) someone's stolen my idea and they've made me mad.

**Jade Cerise:** I don't appreciate being ordered around by some random person. Either ask nicely or don't say anything at all–I get mean when people get rude.

**Dark Hamadryad:** Thank you, I try very hard to keep the characters as they ought to be. It's not always easy.

**I laugh at you:** no matter how hard I try, the computer refuses to let "I" be lowercase. Sorry. Anyhow, I haven't given up, I just didn't have any inspiration for a long time... I wrote the majority of this in one week, though. And I'm glad you like the story so much.


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